


Δ

by Shenanigumi (AlleyCatSunflower)



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a True Story, Dubious Morality, F/M, Friends With PG-13 Benefits, Mild S&M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Toudou Heisuke (Hakuouki)/Yukimura Chizuru - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyCatSunflower/pseuds/Shenanigumi
Summary: In which Chizuru can resist anything but temptation.





	1. entrance

It all starts with a question: “What are you thinking about?”

They’re supposed to be studying, but all thoughts of the upcoming test have long since fallen by the wayside. But then again, it’s hardly unusual for Souji to scatter Chizuru’s thoughts at this point. Especially since she has by now discovered that one of his favorite pastimes is cuddling—and, despite not thinking of herself as a  _tactile_ kind of person, Chizuru cannot help but relax into his touch.

Despite the fact that Chizuru is lucky enough to be able to call herself Heisuke’s girlfriend, and everyone knows it, Souji still holds a fascination for her she can’t explain… and that attraction has been mutually acknowledged between the two of them. Perhaps that’s why they’re always so quiet in between more superficial conversations; some subjects are more dangerous than others, and it’s hard to avoid certain ones of them in such close proximity.

But it’s Souji this time who’s staring into nothingness, lying on his stomach beside her, propped up on his elbows. A small sigh is Chizuru’s only indication that he’s thinking about anything at all, but her senses always seem sharper around him, so she notices, and frowns. Normally, it’s  _her_ thoughts that are more often guessed; she never did learn to conceal them. It’s rare for someone like Souji to get this wrapped up in his head.

So Chizuru asks her question.

Souji doesn’t respond immediately, and when he does, it starts with half a laugh. “I betray myself,” he says, maybe-exaggerating-and-maybe-not as usual, and fans his fingers across his face. “How do I say this without sounding like an asshole…” He isn’t talking to her, just muttering to himself, but Chizuru’s heart beats a little more quickly all the same.  _That_  doesn’t sound good.

But before she can open her mouth to say never mind, he doesn’t have to try to say whatever it is if he doesn’t want, he continues. “I was thinking about kissing you,” confesses Souji all at once, and Chizuru’s heart stops. “But then I thought, no, that’d make things messy.” He looks at her sideways, a glint of curiosity in his expressive green eyes. “But  _then_ I thought… would she be mad if I did it anyway?”

Chizuru opens her mouth, then closes it again, feeling herself flush. Heisuke’s image seems blurry in her mind, an abstract connection her body can’t quite make in the moment. Of course she already knows she has no choice but to say no, but when Souji is looking at her like this… She can’t think straight, indistinct thoughts fluttering around her head like trapped insects. She may write as a hobby, but the words don’t come.

“I’m…” begins Chizuru, making a valiant effort to meet his eyes, but can barely hear herself over her pounding heart. “I’d… love to, but… I… can’t. I’m sorry.” Souji spoke of betrayal, but he cannot begin to imagine the extent to which she has betrayed herself. She intended only to be polite, but her choice of words wasn’t exactly a  _lie_ , and he knows it. Now Souji has a foothold in her psyche, lost ground Chizuru knows she can never regain.

But he doesn’t use it against her. Not yet. He just smiles—maybe a little disappointed, but certainly not surprised—and changes the subject.

* * *

Chizuru didn’t know one face could have so many features until Souji starts pointing hers out, one by one. He’s always focused on faces, ever since he can remember. He enjoys studying people’s reactions, and to hear him tell it, trying not to react counts as a reaction. Maybe that’s why he enjoys teasing Chizuru so much; it’s easy to provoke her, fluster her… manipulate her.

Maybe Souji is just seeing how far he can push her, but Chizuru cannot bring herself to care. Heisuke is sweet to her, but his compliments are clumsy to the point of incoherence. Souji has a silver tongue, speaking of her beauty in small and specific ways. Good lips and laugh lines. Good nose, button but not upturned. Good cheekbones, nice chin, strong jawline. Good eyes, clear, like melted chocolate, somewhere between milk and dark. And her hair frames her face perfectly.

And Souji  _likes_  Chizuru’s hair, running his fingers through its silky strands, nails grown out just a little too long and brushing her scalp so that she can barely suppress her shivers. But she can’t bring herself to tell him to stop, because deep down, she doesn’t  _want_ him to stop. She likes his touch, his nimble fingers. A lot. Too much.

In the interest of fairness, Chizuru tries to tell Souji what exactly she likes about him too, but she finds that—along with her breath—he has stolen all the words she might have used. For her, it is no single feature of his, but his very being that fascinates her, the fact that his appearance fits his personality so precisely. She cannot divide the totality of his self into smaller segments, much less explain the exact aesthetics of his face.

But Souji seems to understand, and lets the conversation lapse as Chizuru rolls onto her back, staring fixedly at the ceiling. There’s no way she can face him anymore. This peculiar and unprecedented concoction of emotions pulsing through her veins is beginning to interfere with even her stubborn self-control. In the moment, clinging to her sense of obligation to Heisuke feels much less satisfying than indulging Souji.

“There,” whispers Souji, tracing his finger slowly from her forehead—along her nose—across her lips, one and then the other—over her chin—and down her throat to her neckline. “It’s not a perfect silhouette. But it’s close.”

Silence ensues, as Chizuru has no response to such a softly spoken sentiment, but is shattered within the minute with a return to the subject they’ve avoided for so long. “I still wanna do it,” says Souji suddenly, sounding more than a little pained as he buries his face in a pillow, and Chizuru swallows a groan. Why did he have to bring that up at such a charged moment?

“I—I know,” manages Chizuru, blushing all over again. “Me, too. But… I can’t. I’m sorry.” Even her determination, her fear of hurting Heisuke by letting things progress too far, has grown tangibly weaker. A single reason, no matter how important it may be, seems too little to resist.

“Restraint is  _easy_!” exclaims Souji, gathering her close, and Chizuru squeaks automatically as his hands maybe-accidentally brush past her posterior. “Child’s play!” And his face is so  _close_ , nestled in the crook of her neck so she can feel his breath as he speaks. She thinks she feels his mouth press against her skin—but his lips aren’t puckered. It isn’t a kiss, but a compromise. (Not enough, thinks Chizuru, before she can stop herself.)

But Souji sees her thinking too much again, and nudges her earlobe with his nose to draw her out of her thoughts. It works: Chizuru fidgets, but doesn’t shy away, her body still drinking in his touch. “Wh-what are you doing…?” she manages, struggling to look at him.

Souji just shrugs, pulling back so that their cheeks brush together. “Intrusive thought,” he explains, a half-sheepish sparkle in his eye. “All my willpower is going into  _not_  kissing you. I can’t help anything else.”

Trying to suppress the color rising to her cheeks once more, Chizuru closes her eyes rather than try to meet Souji’s. But then, for a split second, his teeth are on her neck, and she stiffens, eyes flying open again—but his touch is gone again almost as soon as she registers it.

“Intrusive thought,” says Souji again, and smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”

* * *

A few more hours pass them by, full of ambiguous tension, but Chizuru cannot bring herself to tell Souji to leave. Precarious as this situation may be, she cannot deny that she enjoys his company. Yes, she  _enjoys_ his flirtation, his forwardness, how easily he can articulate feelings and sensations—so unlike Heisuke’s awkward, sincere innocence.

(But the two of them don’t coexist well in her head. Just as Souji rarely enters her head when she is with Heisuke, she finds it difficult to concentrate on her love for Heisuke when she is with Souji.)

Chizuru comes back to herself in time to catch Souji yawning, and that isn’t the first time. He seems to be fading fast, and she doesn’t want to keep him so long that driving home will be dangerous. “You’d better go,” says Chizuru reluctantly. “It’s already after midnight, and you’ve still got a bit of a drive ahead of you.”

It takes a moment for Souji’s eyes to flutter open. “True,” he mumbles, snuggling deeper into his blanket. “Or I could just sleep for ten minutes…”

Chizuru sighs. “Do whatever is least likely to get you killed.”

“Least likely?” echoes Souji, tilting his head. “ _Least_ likely is if I stay here.”

The same thought crossed Chizuru’s mind, but she didn’t let herself think about it seriously. Father tends to be…  _overprotective_ , after all. But at the same time, she’s sure he’d want her friends to be safer rather than sorry—and besides, she knows Souji’s schedule well enough to know he’ll be up and out of the way an hour or two before Father awakens.

“All right,” says Chizuru finally, conceding. “You can stay.”

“My phone’s dying,” says Souji, checking. “Could you set an alarm on yours?”

“What time?”

Souji pauses. “5:45.”

Chizuru stares at him a moment—how can he get so little sleep on a regular basis?—but obligingly inputs the time all the same. “You’ll have to come in and set it on my nightstand before you leave,” she says, handing over her phone, and tries not to think of Souji in her room. Even Heisuke hasn’t had that privilege yet. “That has my alarm on it, too.”

Souji looks up from texting Inoue with the last of his battery, undoubtedly letting him know that he won’t be coming home tonight. “You’re not staying in here?”

Hesitating, Chizuru moistens her lips. She enjoys Souji’s presence, possibly more than she should, but he has a strange power over her, and that makes her nervous. Still, it’s late enough that her thoughts are beginning to scatter, and with them, her resolve. The unexpected strength of her attachment to Souji frightens her, but… if she can last this long without betraying anyone, she can last through the rest of the night.

“All right,” says Chizuru tentatively, but Souji no longer seems to be paying attention. (He probably knew from the beginning that she’d never turn him down.) Instead, he just lets out a little ‘hm’ sound as he puts down his phone.

“What is it?”

“Oh, just an epiphany,” returns Souji lightly.

Chizuru swallows. “Good or bad?”

Souji looks at her sideways again, a few locks of hair falling into his face. “I just  _know_  I’m going to kiss you tonight anyway,” he says, his voice quiet, and Chizuru tries not to shiver at his tone. “Because I’m a bad person.”

He isn’t joking.

“Th-that would put me in a difficult position,” stammers Chizuru, unable to look at him. “As much as I…” But she stops herself before she shows too much of her hand again. He’s only bringing this up to test her strength of will, she realizes—waiting for a conclusive ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Reiterating that she feels the same impulse won’t help either of them. “I could never hurt Heisuke like that. You  _know_ I can’t.”

Souji lets out a long breath. “There it is,” he says, his tone hovering somewhere between sullenness and resignation as he finally receives his answer. “You said the magic words. Fine.” He rolls over, looking as helpless as Chizuru feels. “See, I don’t want to put you in a situation like that.”

In that moment, Chizuru can tell she’s won the battle, but she can’t muster a sense of relief. No one else can never hope to loosen Heisuke’s claim on her heart and her future, but her body is—her  _lips_  seem to be—a different matter altogether. How such traitorous feelings can coexist with her affection for her boyfriend, she doesn’t know… but for whatever reason, one thing is certain.

At her core, she  _wants_  a taste of Souji.

* * *

Two fluffy blankets and one another’s body heat are enough to ward off the chilly autumn night, but Chizuru can’t fall asleep with someone else so close beside her—especially someone like Souji. She can’t seem to get comfortable, although she does her best not to change positions too often for his sake. He needs his rest, after all.

Time seems to telescope that night, each hour stretching out far longer than it should with so few remaining between them and the dawn. Yet still it seems like little time has passed before the alarm sounds, and they awaken—Souji’s arm around her waist, his front pressed against her back.

He withdraws his arm long enough to press the snooze button, and Chizuru rolls over to face him, chasing his warmth. All boundaries between them seem dissolved at this early hour, no need for artificial distance, as Souji leans his forehead briefly against hers. And, in the same way he pressed his mouth to her skin last night, Chizuru presses hers to his forehead—inhibitions lower so soon after awakening. (Heisuke seems like a mere memory, a dream.)

“Part of me wants to ask you to stay,” says Chizuru, tangling her legs with his sleepily to keep him in place even after the snooze wears off. “But… I know you can’t.”

Souji hesitates as if considering it. “I can stay ten more minutes,” he says, effortlessly extricating himself from her amateur trap in search of comfort. “It shouldn’t take me  _that_  long to get to work.”

Slowly, he lies down again, resting his head over Chizuru’s heart—the upper flat of her chest, perhaps out of respect for her boundaries—but he sits up again before too long. Perhaps her pulse has quickened too much for direct contact to be comfortable anymore, she thinks, drowsy suppositions flowing into one another like a lazy river.

But then Chizuru realizes, several minutes later, that Souji is staring at nothing again, eyes fixed intently on the bookshelf. The light just before dawn is far too dim for him to be studying their titles, no matter how sharp his eyes may be. For one reason or another, he is lost in his head again. “Are you okay?”

Chizuru’s voice is soft and weak to her own ears, but she knows Souji’s hearing is impeccable; he must have heard her. After a brief hesitation, he looks down at her for a long moment, wearing an expression she cannot fathom in the darkness. Still, her breath catches in anticipation she can’t explain: something is about to change between them, and she’s about to find out what.

“I’m sorry,” murmurs Souji, and leans down.


	2. stolen moments

This time, it starts with laughter.

Chizuru doesn’t even remember what she couldn’t stop giggling about; it doesn’t matter anymore. All she remembers is Souji, still trying to change the subject. “Shut up,” he says, again, more insistently, although she can’t help but notice he’s smiling too. “Or I’ll  _make_  you shut up.”

Eyes closed, Chizuru lets out one more mirthful breath before Souji’s lips press against hers. It’s a light kiss, and a brief one, half-chaste just like their first—but, now that it’s earlier in the evening, it feels riskier. Now, they’re both awake and capable of more, and Souji is testing her fully conscious reactions.

“There,” says Souji, flopping down next to her with sunshine in his springtime eyes. “You walked right into that one.”

Chizuru shakes her head. As selfish as Souji professes to be, he didn’t show the slightest bit of interest in kissing until she rather clumsily tried to explain that she actually appreciated his forwardness last time. Which was a big mistake, of course, but every time they see one another, something else seems to change between them, so she can’t seem to get a moment’s rest. That was a risk she was willing to take for the sake of closure.

“W-well, I opened the door for it,” stammers Chizuru, blushing, and cannot look at Souji’s triumphant smirk a moment longer. How can he fluster her like this, sidestepping all her boundaries so effortlessly…? There are times she could swear he isn’t human.

Now it’s Souji’s turn to laugh. “Yeah,” he agrees. “And then you tripped over the welcome mat and landed flat on your face.”

“I… guess I did,” says Chizuru, unable to help but smile all over again at the imagery, and relaxes despite herself. She’s beginning to learn that whatever her other obligations and priorities may be, Souji has a way of reaching inside to rearrange them. It does her no good to live anywhere other than in the moment; better just turn herself over to him, lips and all, and hope he doesn’t lead her  _too_  far into temptation tonight.

But old habits die hard, and it isn’t long before Chizuru lapses into thought again, trying to think how and why something like this—something like Souji—could have happened to  _her_  of all people. Yet it can’t be more than a few minutes before he has pulls her out of her head: “You good?”

Chizuru takes a deep breath. “I guess…” She hesitates, trying to put her sentiment into words. Even as a budding writer, it takes her some time to think of the right phrasing: “I don’t have much of a self-image, good or bad. I don’t really think of myself as either pretty or ugly; it’s just how I am. But a part of me still wonders why anyone would ever think I’m… above-average enough… to kiss me.” Especially if it means going behind others’ backs like this. Isn’t that more trouble than she’s worth?

Gazing up at her, Souji tilts his head, apparently bewildered. “You’re cute.”

Chizuru stares down at him. His forthright compliments shouldn’t surprise her by now, but somehow, they always seem to catch her off-guard. “I’ve heard that before,” she says. From Heisuke, and a few others scattered throughout her past. “But I can never seem to make myself believe it.”

“We’ve talked about this,” says Souji, resting his hand on the middle of her back. “Bare minimum, everything below the neck— _nice_. But you’re also cute.”

“Th-thanks… I think,” stutters Chizuru, coloring again at the implications. Souji’s so good at hiding parts of himself that sometimes she forgets he pays much closer attention to things like that than she does. “You’re not fair. You know that, right?”

“That’s out of my control,” chuckles Souji, and Chizuru glances aside thoughtfully. That’s just who he is, then. But after a brief pause, almost hesitant, Souji leans up suddenly and pecks Chizuru on the lips once more, perhaps to draw her out of her turbulent thoughts.

Starting, Chizuru shies away automatically… although her heart skips a traitorous beat all the same, electricity jolting through her body. “A-are you telling me you can’t control this?!”

Souji just grins, slowly lying back down. “Oh,  _that_ one I could control,” he tells her, and Chizuru lets out a short sigh. There’s really no winning with him.

* * *

Another few silences later, Chizuru hears her father’s car pull into the driveway, and tenses. Reluctantly disentangling herself from Souji’s horizontal embrace, she rolls onto her stomach, bracing herself. Father still doesn’t know that Souji spent the night last time, but he’d still undoubtedly have a few questions if he found them like this.

All the same, Chizuru can see in Souji’s eyes, in some indeterminable way, that he’s going to lean in for another kiss. “Father’s about to come in,” she warns him. Not into the very room in which they lie, but even having him in the house feels much too close for comfort. It took him long enough to approve of Heisuke’s presence in her life without tacitly asking him to approve of Souji in the same way.

“ _About_ to,” repeats Souji, grinning, and leans forward suddenly to kiss her again. Even anticipating it, Chizuru’s breath catches, heart freezing in her chest, at the force of his ardor. This kiss is swifter, deeper, almost hungry, rocking her briefly back and forth to lead a chase—half a nip at her lips drawing her in further after him until the front-door lock clicks open, and Chizuru jerks herself back before she falls in too deep.

Rolling aside in case Father comes in to check on them, Chizuru frowns at the wall. “I wish I could be angry at you,” she mumbles, but Souji only chuckles. It should scare her, how carefree that laugh is, how knowing: he can do almost anything to her, and she won’t care. And Chizuru should feel guiltier for letting him get away with so much more than anyone else ever could, even Heisuke.

But she’s finally beginning to learn that  _should_ s never work out too well where Souji is concerned.

* * *

“What are you thinking about?”

Chizuru opens her eyes, focusing with difficulty on Souji’s question. Now that Father has gone to bed, they’re safe enough to lie face-to-face again; Souji is running his fingers through her hair, his scent weaving around her body like a spell, sweet and sharp and musky. If Chizuru is thinking of anything at all, it can’t be put into words easily.

But she must at least try. “You’re… beautiful,” she says, tongue clumsy in her mouth, but she cannot either retract her statement or look away from his eyes. Unconventional as her phrasing may be, it’s true. “Who and what you are. And… all the capacity for change that comes with it.” Chizuru has never met anyone like him, so difficult to pin down in words.

Souji laughs, maybe a little nervously, and looks away. “Well,  _that_  wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“But it’s true.”

Another moment later, Souji pushes himself up above Chizuru, and she lies back uncertainly—instinctively. “Fuck you,” he says quietly, half-laughing as he leans down, and curves his hand to the back of her neck with strong and dextrous fingers. (Though he’s said it a few times before, that curse has never felt so kind before.) “ _You’re_ beautiful.”

Their lips meet again, their movements slower now, but still deeper, like a shared and steady heartbeat. Souji’s string of softer kisses is broken by Chizuru this time as speech bubbles up inside—“I-it’s not mutually exclusive, you know,” she insists breathlessly, barely managing to get all the syllables out before their mouths meet again.

But one more word still feels as though it needs to be said, though Chizuru is unsure as to whether she speaks to Souji or herself or the absent and innocent Heisuke as she interrupts again: “Sorry.”

Souji lets out a light sigh of exasperation. “Stop”—he rests his mouth on hers, neither pair of lips moving, no effort made to deepen the kiss until his next word does it for them—“ _apologizing_.” As though his command is absolute, Chizuru’s mind goes blank, and her body responds only to the insistent touch of Souji’s lips on hers. His forceful advances melt into more delicate touches, lips barely brushing for several seconds before he leads another dance.

(But these kisses don’t mean the same thing to Souji, thinks Chizuru—or perhaps it’s something she  _feels_ , since there are no conscious thoughts left in her mind. For someone like him, physical affection is just a hobby, another way to pass the time. She’s known from the beginning that their relationship is inherently unequal, but that fact has never felt so obvious before: even though Souji doesn’t taste like anything, she catches a bittersweet flavor on his lips all the same.)

After they break away, Souji allows only a moment for them to catch their breath before sitting back on his haunches with a mischievous grin. “And with that, I should go,” he says, hair falling into his face, and rises without further ado—extending a gallant yet roguish hand to help Chizuru up as well. Still entranced, she feels she has no choice but to take it and allow him to pull her to her feet.

One of these days, perhaps, she will stop being so utterly at his mercy, maybe even long enough to feel for herself the gravity of her betrayal. But, as she and Souji share another automatic smile, Chizuru knows that today is not that day.


	3. marks

More has changed over the past five months than Chizuru ever could have imagined, but even considering the misfortune that came with them, she wouldn’t change a thing.

She feels as though she should be more affected by the fact that Heisuke broke up with her a few weeks ago, but as it is, he actually cried more than she did. They loved each other deeply—they still do—but Chizuru could feel that he wanted more from her than she felt ready to give. And he chose to leave her rather than pressure her, or ask her to change.

On the whole, Chizuru understands that she was true to herself and honest with Heisuke from the beginning, and therefore that there is precious little to regret. After all, he deserves to be happy, and if she cannot make him so, then she has no business being selfish and keeping him. She has only to look forward to the day they can be friends again, the air fresh and clear between them.

Still, given the stubborn innocence that ultimately drove Heisuke away, it is undeniably ironic that someone like Souji is still in Chizuru’s life.

…Barely. He fell out of it entirely for a while, once he had to drop the only class they shared, and her fascination ebbed away as everyday life demanded her attention. It flared up again only once, when Souji showed up on campus and called Chizuru’s name just before she opened the classroom door. Even the brief and superficial conversation that followed made her physically weak for an hour afterwards, so that it was all she could do to focus on her studies.

Since then, however, Chizuru’s life has gone almost entirely back to normal, and her feelings have calmed down again—more decisively this time. Enough that she is comfortable with inviting Souji back to her house, now that he has finally found some free time too.

But Chizuru was determined to keep her expectations of such a visit as low as possible. Having spent more time away from Souji now than the amount of time they’d known one another in the first place, she assumed they’d have to start all over again, rebuilding their rapport from the ground up.

Let the bite marks on her neck and the scratches on her back stand as testament to how wrong she truly was.

It starts innocently enough, as always… if any kisses can be said to be innocent, the way Souji gives them. But at least he’s the one to make the first move this time, instead of waiting for her. She doesn’t even remember what started it, only that after an hour of catching up, they were suddenly kissing again for the sheer wild joy of it, as though they’d never been apart.

“I’m so glad you felt like doing that,” says Chizuru quietly, catching her breath after the first one, and hugs Souji close on top of her.

Souji rolls back onto his side and smiles, a little distantly. “I feel a little like I’m leading you on,” he confesses. “A friend stopped talking to me over this kind of thing.”

Chizuru frowns. “I would have to have  _expectations_  for you to be leading me on,” she says. Miraculously, they are more aware of where they stand than ever. “And I don’t, so you’re not. I don’t understand how anyone could possibly…”

“Well, I also fucked her,” says Souji conversationally, and Chizuru freezes for a moment as her mind recalibrates. “Three… no, four times. So there’s that.”

“There… is that,” agrees Chizuru helplessly—though privately, she still doesn’t understand how anyone could give up Souji over a simple misunderstanding, or demand more from him than he gave. (But then, he’s shown her that she is a little more flexible in the world of relationships than she thought.)

Whatever Chizuru’s thoughts are, they melt away in the wake of another string of kisses—some tender, some passionate. Making out feels just like she remembers, although oddly, Souji seems a little out-of-practice.

…Sort of. Lying half beside her, half beneath her, he moves his hand up to her throat, then hesitates and curves it to her cheek. And then breaks away. “Sorry,” mumbles Souji. “Reflex.”

“What are you apologizing for?” asks Chizuru, uncomprehending.

Souji pauses, eyeing her in some surprise. “Didn’t think you were into that,” he says. “I was going to choke you.”

There is a beat of silence before it really clicks, but Chizuru is far from repulsed. Instead, she feels only a strange, unforeseen curiosity. “I don’t know,” she says, words tumbling out of her mouth, and does not meet Souji’s eyes. “I-it’s not like I’ve ever had the chance to find out what I’m into.”

His only response is to grin, position himself over her, and lean down to kiss her again. Only this time, the space between Souji’s thumb and forefinger presses into her throat, tentative, half-gentle. And it doesn’t hurt. Her breathing doesn’t even feel constricted, only shallower, but all sound is muted in her ears, and her lips move more slowly as their kiss goes on.

As they catch their breath, he nestles his face into the side of Chizuru’s neck, but the motion is halting. And Souji can tell she has noticed. “Another reflex,” he mumbles into her, by way of explanation.

“What?”

Souji shifts himself up to look down at her. “I was going to bite you.”

“Oh,” says Chizuru, baring her neck. “Really?”

Taking the hint, Souji leans down again, and—true to his word—bites her. Not too hard, his teeth scraping along her skin, separating only slowly. Chizuru only realizes she’s stopped breathing once she exhales, as he withdraws.

“That was about 50% strength,” murmurs Souji, and their eyes lock. “Good?”

“A-ah,” says Chizuru, flushing. “Yes. But I think… 50% might be all I can handle.” Especially because Souji is now positioned snugly between her legs. And Chizuru has, somehow, never been more comfortable in her life.

Time loses all meaning as the afternoon drags on, kisses and the occasional bite interspersed with casual conversation, all natural as the summer sunlight spilling through the window. Now that her emotions have settled, Chizuru’s body has taken over more quickly than she anticipated. It is not like being unconscious; her inhibitions are simply lower.

 _Far_  lower.

Souji’s pressure on Chizuru’s throat is more insistent this time, closer to painful, but he moves his thumb when she taps on it to lessen the discomfort. He whispers something, but she cannot hear with the sound so muffled in her ears.

“Wha…?”

“Tap me three times and I’ll let go,” murmurs Souji, his words a vibration Chizuru feels more than hears, and barely understands. And in any case, the last thing she wants is for him to let go.

But he does, anyway, after some time.

“Enjoying yourself?” whispers Souji.

“Yes,” breathes Chizuru, once she  _can_  breathe again. (But it is decidedly not the suffocation that makes her lungs so airless.) “Are you?”

“Yeah,” says Souji, sitting back, and takes Chizuru by the shoulders as though to bring her with him. But the movement is unexpected, and she has no idea what his aim is, so she cannot help him. Lying down is well and good, but what can they possibly do sitting up?

“What do you want?” asks Chizuru, her speech clumsy and direct.

“You, on my lap,” says Souji, just as abruptly.

There is no time to question things. Sitting up to follow, Chizuru obediently straddles Souji, and their lips meet again, as hungrily as though they never broke apart. Communication is far less disruptive to this process than Chizuru might have imagined.

Outside, a car alarm distracts them, and Souji smiles into Chizuru’s mouth and breaks away. “It’s too hot for the car outside,” he mumbles, angling his head to bite her again. Harder this time, and Chizuru inhales sharply as pain flashes through her, but it is by  _no_  means an unpleasant experience.

“That was closer to 100%,” says Souji, his voice low in his throat. “Left some marks.” And, though Chizuru might ordinarily have protested, in the moment, that means nothing. (Her hair will cover them, if she keeps it in a low ponytail.)

Instead, she takes the opportunity to push Souji down. She has not mastered the technique required to exact retribution, but she can at least take the lead, tilting her head the other way and making known the irrepressible physicality of her affection. Now that she is no longer under his thumb, literally or figuratively, Chizuru is free to express her desire as she chooses.

Over the course of the next several minutes, Souji turns her over once to bite her again, to choke her again… to angle his thigh between both of hers. Through some magic Chizuru cannot fathom, he is able to tread the finest line of sensuality and sexuality, adding a layer of sensuous pleasure without pressuring her into more. This is simply a part of the dance.

Eventually, Souji rolls over and takes Chizuru with him so that she sits atop him, leaning over him as they catch their breath—her unbound hair falling in curtains on either side of her face. Yet she finds herself entirely at ease, and even a little excited for whatever he has in store next.

Chizuru finds out as Souji slips his hand beneath her shirt. His nails are still just a little too long, and Chizuru shivers. “Is that a yes or a no?” asks Souji, pausing.

“Yeah,” says Chizuru, distantly.

“I… don’t know what that means.”

“It means yes,” says Chizuru, and Souji reaches farther up her shirt, beneath her bra. As he scratches lightly up and down the length of her back, Chizuru curves away from the pressure instinctively, and an automatic smile tugs at her lips as she savors the sensation.

“Softer?” asks Souji quietly. “Harder?”

“I—I don’t know,” says Chizuru, unable even to think straight. Souji waits, but when no further consent comes, he quickly shifts his attention elsewhere.

Bringing his hand up to the back of her head, he knots his fingers in her hair and pushes her down into another kiss. And then jerks her aside to bring his teeth to the side of her neck again—a perfect puppeteer, twisting together two kinds of pain into unimaginable pleasure.

Chizuru gasps this time, her reactions becoming more vocal with every passing moment, and Souji lets her hair slip back through his fingers so she can recover. Which reminds the small part of her that can still think…

“D-do you want me to put my hair up?”

But Souji shakes his head, smirking. “Gotta get a good grip,” he says, weaving his fingers in her hair, and curls his hand into a fist pointedly. “Close to the root. It’s harder if it’s already in one place. And less fun.”

Another kiss, half forced, and Chizuru gives herself over to Souji’s careful control. Her body needs air, but she wants too badly to make the most of the time they have to stop now. They stand at a crossroads in their lives, and even just today, he will have to leave her house soon. Who knows how long it will be before they can do this again…?

By the time Chizuru comes back to herself, their time has run out, and Souji has rolled her over one last time to look down at her. “You’re an adorable sub, you know,” he says, gazing down at her, the emotion in his eyes sincere and as close to affection as it ever comes. “You’re so clueless.”

Chizuru isn’t sure ‘adorable sub’ is a title she ever sought, but now she feels that she will treasure it always, and giggle about it in secret. “Thanks?”

Souji only laughs, lying down next to Chizuru, and prods her onto her side so he can spoon her. “Aftercare is important,” he tells her, tangling his legs with hers, and she feels more than anything else that it is an excuse to stay longer.

Still, Chizuru does not question it. Gratified by Souji’s mere presence in her life, her only response is to interlace their fingers, and try to catch her breath. How many things has he taught her about herself, and how many things does she have yet to find out?

(It seems Chizuru learns something new every day Souji is at her side.)


End file.
